


No Requiem

by my_proof_is_you



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, F/M, Guitars, Mixed Feelings about Death, Past Child Abuse, Singing, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:04:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_proof_is_you/pseuds/my_proof_is_you
Summary: You had lived 27 years with a father who was a tyrant and a monster. Now that you were free of him, you weren’t sure who you were.Luckily, the men who saved you were willing to let you tag along and try to find yourself. Feelings don’t just go away, though, and you struggle through how you feel about loss, anger, and new feelings you don’t yet understand.*This fic like most of my others will include a reader and a character that sing and play guitar. Honestly, I just love expressing feelings through music. The songs will be in the notes on that chapter so I can give credit where credit is due!





	1. Chapter 1

You

You were worthless.

It was something you had heard for a long time, and not being able to stop _his_ death had only proved it.

You looked down at your folded hands in your lap, placed daintily on the thick fabric of your black dress. Your right hand turned into a fist as you fought the urge to run out of the church and away from all of it.

The pastor said something you didn’t hear but you watched as your grandmother rose from her seat next to you and took the podium.

She started going on about how wonderful of a man her son was. She talked about what a great dad he was, and how he’ll be missed by all.

You stared ahead blankly, letting her false words go in one ear and out the other.

The man she spoke of was nothing short of a monster. You had spent your whole life in fear of him, and now that he was gone, you had no idea what you were going to do with yourself.

When the service was over you had to stand and politely accept hugs and sorrys from strangers. You pretty much just nodded your head and blocked it all out until you saw two men standing at the back of the church looking uncomfortable.

One was tall with shaggy brown hair, and the other one was less tall (but still actually very tall) with short hair and green eyes.

You knew who the men were immediately.

They were the two men who saved your life.

  
Dean

Dean shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, inwardly cursing Sam for making him come to this funeral.

“Remind me again why we’re here? The hound’s dead,” he said, elbowing his brother.

Sam sighed. “Because, Dean, it’s a sign of respect. This girl just lost the only parent she has.”

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He remembered the look on your face when they had saved you. It was weird—it wasn’t like the look he usually saw from victims that survived over their family members.

He didn’t dwell on it, though. It was just another day, another damsel in distress. And while you were pretty, Dean hadn’t planned on seeing you ever again until Sam dragged him to the funeral.

“H-Hi,” he heard a small voice say. He brought himself from his thoughts and looked down a few inches. You stood in front of him wearing a short black dress. Your y/h/c hair hung straight down and you had light and subtle makeup on your face.

“Hi, Y/N,” Sam said, placing a big hand on your shoulder. “We are so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” you said with a sort of flat-lipped smile. You sucked in a deep breath before speaking again. “And thanks again for saving my life,” you said, this time much more sincere.

“All in a day’s work, sweetheart,” Dean replied nonchalantly. Sam elbowed him in the ribs and Dean hissed, rubbing the spot.

“So where will you guys go now?” You asked.

“Not sure yet,” Dean replied. “Wherever the job takes us.”

“What about you?,” Sam asked. “What are you going to do now?”

A slight panic took over your face and you let out a dry chuckle. “I have no idea,” you said. For some reason this intrigued Dean.

“Well do you go to school or anything?” He asked.

“Me? School? No. I’m not smart enough for that,” you said, looking at the ground. Dean found that hard to believe with how well you took the news that the supernatural was real and understood it.

“Do you have any other family? Or friends?” Sam asked in his ‘I’m talking to a victim’ tone.

“Just my grandma. But I don’t exactly get along with her,” you said, absentmindedly scratching your arm. “I know it’s stupid, but I haven’t really gotten to start my real life yet. I mean, I’m 27 and I still live with my dad. Well...lived,” you said, looking away.

Dean felt his heart speed up a little bit. Was he actually...worried about you?

“What if you came with us?” Dean asked suddenly. The second the words were out of his mouth he felt his face warm. He had no idea where that came from.

“W-What?” You asked.

“Yeah, what?” Sam asked, turning to Dean. Dean looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders.

“You need to find yourself, and we travel a lot. Seems like we could help you out,” he said innocently.

You looked into Dean’s eyes as if trying to figure out if he was being serious, like you thought he would say “just kidding” at any moment.

“I—I mean, maybe. I don’t have any money, though,” you said, shaking your head.

“Neither do we,” Dean replied. He hoped you’d be okay with their less-than-honest way of paying for motels.

“Sam?” You asked, looking at the taller brother to make sure it was okay.

Sam smiled warmly. “Of course, we’d love to have you come along.” Dean smiled. He had known his brother was too much of a softy to say no.

He just hadn’t known he was so soft that he would invite you in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Your grandmother had argued with you until she was blue in the face about leaving. She didn’t want you to go, especially with two strange men.

You didn’t care what she had to say, though. The woman who spent so much of your life turning a blind eye didn’t get the right to tell you what to do.

So it was that you sat in the back of Dean’s Impala. You picked at your fingernails, nervous about this new path you had taken.

You had so many emotions running through you that you didn’t even know what to think. You were nervous, of course, but you were also excited to finally start your life. You were also unsure of what to feel about the loss of your dad, but you decided to shove that away for now. It was too complicated, and Sam and Dean seemed like the kind of people that don’t appreciate getting caught up in complicated relationships.

“So, Y/N, tell us more about you,” Sam said from the front seat. He smiled encouragingly while Dean just looked straight ahead. You had gotten weird vibes from him since the start of all this. When he saved you, he was all business. Then he invited you to join him and his brother. Now he had gone back to being silent and business-like.

“Well, uh, there isn’t much to tell. My mom passed away when I was young, and I’ve lived with my dad since then.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “How did you lose her?”

“Cancer,” you said, nodding. “I don’t really remember her, to be honest. I was just a baby.”

“Me too,” Sam said. “Our mom died when we were young. I was only six months old.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said. “How did she die?”

“Let’s just say it was the same kind of thing that killed your dad,” Dean said solemnly.

“A hellhound?” You asked. You had studied up on hellhounds after one had tried to end your life after killing your father. You knew that there were different kinds, but you also weren’t sure what you had read online was true or not.

“A demon, which controls hellhounds,” Sam replied. “It was a different kind of demon than what told the hellhound to kill your dad.”

“What kind was that?” You asked. You had wanted to ask them before but you were obviously not in a very good place when you first found out that the supernatural was real anyway.

“A crossroads demon,” Sam explained. “They usually come to collect souls ten years after they make a deal with a human.”

You gaped at him. “So you’re saying that my dad made a deal with a demon?”

“Looks like it,” Dean remarked.

You tried to think of what it could have been. It wasn’t like the two of you had a lot of money or anything. He never quit drinking, so you knew it wasn’t a deal that got him sobriety or anything. You rolled your eyes to yourself.

“I have no idea what it could have been,” you said.

“Well you lived with the guy for twenty-seven years,” Dean said, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “I would have thought you knew him pretty well.”

I knew him, alright. You thought to yourself. You shook your head and looked out the window, remembering just how well you knew your father.

  
A Few Months Earlier- You

You pulled the shoes off of your sleeping father’s feet and tossed them to the side. He had fallen asleep in front of the TV after drinking a sizeable amount of beer. Not before knocking you around, though.

You were used to it. He would come home already half-drunk from stopping at the bar after work and pick up right where he left off. Then he would start in on how you were a failure and worthless to him before finishing off the evening by punching you in the stomach or backhanding you across the face.

This had been your life for as long as you could remember. And as you covered your father with a blanket—careful not to move your newly bruised ribs too much—you wondered for the millionth time:

_Why don’t I just leave?_

  
Dean

The car had been silent after Dean’s last comment, but thankfully Sam thought of something to say to break the awkwardness.

“So, Y/N, I saw you pack a guitar in the trunk with your duffel bag. You play, I take it?”

Dean looked at you in the rear view mirror, noticing the tension ease from your face.

“Yeah, I do. I sing a little, too. Just a hobby, you know?” You replied.

Sam nodded. “Any particular kind of music?”

“I guess I like pretty much all kinds. Alternative, jazz, pop, classic rock…”

Dean’s ears perked up when you said the last one. “Well why didn’t ya say so?” He reached under the seat and pulled up the box of cassettes he always kept in baby.

“You like Led Zeppelin?” he asked.

“Yeah!” you said excitedly. Dean smiled and popped the cassette in. Sam shook his head, still annoyed at Dean’s choice in music, like always, while you and Dean sang loudly to the music.


	3. Chapter 3

You

 

The three of you had stopped to grab some food at a gas station. You felt bad, as you didn’t ever have any money of your own. Your dad had certainly not had any to leave you. 

The boys told you not to worry, though. They said they didn’t exactly come by their money honestly, anyway.

You walked down the aisles of the small gas station, looking for a snack you might want. You had picked up a bag of pretzels and continued browsing while the boys looked around as well. You came upon a rack of magazines and stopped. 

There were several different ones, and a few of them drew your eyes. They were all magazines that were for teens. And while you were definitely not in your teens anymore, you found yourself flipping through them. 

Those magazines were some of the random things that your dad never let you have. While all the other girls your age were looking at the latest fashions and filling out the quizzes in them, you only got to look on in jealousy. The one time you had brought one home, your dad had yelled at you for wasting his money and burned it. 

“You wanna get that?” Sam asked, standing behind you. You jumped a little, as you hadn’t heard him come up behind you.

“Sorry,” he said with a little chuckle. You smiled, turning to face him.

“It’s stupid,” you said, going to put the magazine back. 

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he said, stopping you. “Lord knows Dean has gotten his share of gas station magazines.” He gave you a suggestive look, and you knew he meant “adult” magazines. 

You laughed. “Well, this is just a dumb teen magazine. But you know, I never got to read these growing up and I always wanted to.”

Sam looked confused by that, but let it go. “Well then you’re getting it,” he said, grabbing it from you and heading to the checkout. 

You smiled. You knew that Sam didn’t see it as a big deal, but to you, it was like you were being spoiled. 

\-------

You filled out a quiz in the magazine to find out what kind of prom dress you should wear. Obviously it didn’t matter that you would look good in an empire waist dress that brings out your eyes, but it was fun to do nonetheless. 

“Hey, Y/N, we’re gonna stop at a motel for the night. That okay?” Sam asked. You yawned almost as if on queue.

“Definitely.”

When you walked into the motel room, a weird feeling came over you. Most people would be grossed out by the dingy walls and dusty interior. But you felt...at home. You felt more at home than you ever did in a house with your father.

“Easy there, smiley, it’s not a four star hotel,” Dean said as he walked past you, putting his duffel on one of the beds. 

“I know...I just...this is new to me. And...I like it,” you said, still smiling. 

Dean’s eyes crinkled on the edges as he smiled back at you for a moment. He shook his head and turned to unpack some things from his bag. 

“So, Y/N, you and Dean are going to have to share a bed. Is that okay? If not, one of us can sleep on the floor. It’s just that the two of us do not fit well on a double bed together,” Sam explained.

You looked him up and down, taking in his towering height. You could understand how that would be the case. 

“Of course,” you said, still smiling. You looked at Dean who was not smiling, like, at all. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” you said abruptly. You slipped into the bathroom with your bag and leaned against the sink. You could hear bickering from the other room, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

_ They invited you,  _ you told yourself, trying not to feel like a burden. You weren’t about to fall back into the feelings you felt every day of your life with your dad. 

You stripped out of the dress you still wore from the funeral and turned on the shower. You got in and let the warm water calm you, humming to yourself a melody that you had made up. It didn’t have any lyrics yet, but you knew a new song was brewing. 

 

Dean

 

Dean and Sam stopped what they were doing when they heard your humming coming through the thin wall of the bathroom. They looked at each other, and Sam smiled.

“I can already tell she’s a good singer,” Sam said. 

Dean stood up straight from where he was unpacking his bag. “It’s just humming, dude, jeez. Keep it in your pants.”

Sam’s smile dropped and he rolled his eyes. “What are you, four? I can give a girl a compliment without being into her.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he felt a little bit of relief at Sam’s words. He didn’t want to investigate why, though.

After a few minutes you came out of the bathroom with your hair wrapped up in a towel and a smile still on your face. Dean stared at you, unable to help himself. Your smile was so comfortable and real. He struggled to understand how you could be so happy in a crappy motel like this. 

“Bathroom’s free,” you said, flipping your head upside down and pulling the towel off of it. You shook out your wet hair before taking a brush out of your bag and running it through.

“Dean!” 

Dean snapped his attention from you to Sam. “What?”

“I said do you want to go first?” Sam said.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, grabbing his bathroom items and going in the next room. He shook off whatever weird thing had just happened and tried to clear his mind before he went to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

You

You opened your eyes with a yelp and couldn’t figure out where you were. All you knew was that a minute ago your dad had been beating you. He could come back to your room at any moment and start in again. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You heard from beside you. You backed away from the sound, still terrified and confused, until you fell off the bed.

A light switched on and you saw Dean and Sam’s faces staring at you with worry and confusion. It all clicked and you remembered where you were.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. 

_ He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. _

“Are you okay?” Sam asked when you didn’t respond. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m so sorry, guys,” you said, getting up from the floor. Your hands were shaking and without another word you went into the bathroom and closed the door. You splashed some water on your face to try to calm yourself down.

You could hear the boys talking from the other side of the wall, but tried to ignore it. You knew you were weird and you probably freaked them out. But all you could do for now was remind yourself that you had started over and that you weren’t stuck with your dad anymore.

You walked back out to the main room to find that the lights were still on, with Sam and Dean looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m really sorry I woke you up, guys. I’d like to say that won’t happen again, but it might,” you said with a small smile. You decided being honest with them was probably best. 

“You get nightmares a lot?” Sam asked.

You sat on the edge of the bed. “They just started pretty recently. Probably because up until now my life was the nightmare,” you said. You hadn’t planned on spilling so much to them, but you felt like you could trust them.

They both looked at you quizzically. “My dad...wasn’t a good guy,” you stated simply, hoping that was enough information for them.

Sam’s face turned to that of a sad puppy dog, and Dean had murder in his eyes. 

“What did he do?” Dean asked angrily. You shrunk back a little at his tone, as it was one you’d heard many times before and it led nowhere good. Sam saw that and kicked Dean in the back from his spot on the other bed. Dean shot Sam a look but understood.

You waited a moment before deciding to show them. “Well...this happened just before he died.” You lifted the hem of your shirt enough to show the black-and-blue skin that covered your ribs. After he bruised them a few months before, your dad went at your ribs again, and this time you were sure some of them were cracked. 

Sam hissed at the sight of your wounds while Dean got up and paced to the other side of the room like a caged animal. Your eyes grew wide with worry at his actions, but at the same time you knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath as he continued pacing.

“Y/N, that must be really painful. Maybe we should take you to a doctor,” Sam said, coming to your bed and sitting next to you to get a better look. 

You sighed and smiled at his worry. Underlying pain was something you were so used to that you didn’t even really notice it anymore.

“Thanks, Sam, but I’m okay. I think they’re cracked. There’s nothing a doctor can do about that.” Sam’s eyebrows raised at your knowledge. “This isn’t my first rodeo,” you said with a smirk. 

Dean was still pacing at the other end of the room. “If that bastard wasn’t already dead,” he said, clenching his fists. 

“Dean, it’s okay. I’m fine now,” you said, getting up and standing in front of him so he’d stop pacing. “So I have some nightmares now and then, so what? He’s gone, so it doesn’t matter.”

Dean’s eyebrows scrunched up. “It does matter, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody does.”

You looked into Dean’s concerned eyes and felt your heart tug. 

“Y/N...why didn’t you leave? I mean, I understand when you were little, but...why twenty-seven years?”

You turned to Sam. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” You paused. “But I’m starting over now. And I’m finally gonna live the life I never got to before.”

  
  


Dean

Dean walked up to the motel after picking up breakfast for the three of you. He had volunteered to pick it up. He hadn’t slept well after he heard what that bastard of a father had done to you. He needed the drive to clear his head.

Just thinking of someone hurting you was maddening to Dean. You were so sweet and kind and...he just couldn’t understand it. 

He opened the door and saw you sitting on the bed, your guitar next to you. There were papers spread around you with scribbled notes all over them. It looked like you had taken a break from song writing. You were sitting with one leg up to your chest, a pen in hand. You scribbled little designs on the bottoms of your jeans, humming to yourself. You were clearly focused, as you hadn’t heard Dean come in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean said cautiously, putting the food down on the table. You jumped a little but smiled when you saw it was Dean. “Sam in the shower?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, he just got back from his run a little bit ago,” you said, walking over to the table. You grabbed one of the coffee cups and took a long sip. “What time does that guy get up, anyway? Four a.m.?” 

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a freak.” You smiled at his comment and he found that he was smiling, too. Something he really didn’t do very often. 

“So, I was thinking…” you began.

“Yeah?” Dean said, waiting for you to continue. You looked nervous about whatever you were going to ask.

“Do you think on the road today we could stop somewhere so I…”

“So you…” Dean said, encouraging you to continue. 

“So I could get my hair done?” Your cheeks turned a rosy color when you said it. “I know it’s stupid, but I’ve never gotten to go to a salon before and pick out what I want to do to my hair.”

Dean smiled even though he felt like punching something. Your dad wouldn’t even let you do what you wanted with your own hair?

“Of course, Y/N.” Dean pulled the breakfast burritos out of their paper bag. “And that’s not stupid, by the way,” he said, not looking up. 

When he did he saw that your smile was extremely wide, almost all your teeth showing. 

_ It’s so damn easy to make her happy. _

You skipped back over to the bed with your burrito in hand and sat down, looking over your scribbled song notes. Sam came out of the bathroom then, drying his long hair with his towel. 

“Looks like you’re in luck, Sammy.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “You can get that mop cut off today. We’re going to a hair salon!” 

Sam just rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. Dean looked at you to see you snickering and he joined in, unable to help himself. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

You

You walked out of the salon, excited to see what the boys thought of your new hair. For your whole life, your y/h/c hair had been the same: it hung down to the middle of your back with a slight wave to it. Your dad had only ever let you trim it, and he did it until you were old enough to do it yourself. Obviously they weren’t the most talented haircuts.

So when you walked to the impala and both the boys’ jaws dropped, you felt pretty good.

You had gotten it cut to a little above your shoulders with lots of layers and side-swept bangs. You wanted to make it even more fun, so you had the stylist add blue streaks to your hair.

You opened the back door and got in, sliding to the middle of the back seat and leaning over the back of the front seat.

“So what’dya think?” you asked them.

“That looks fantastic, Y/N,” Sam said, beaming.

You smiled back at him widely, then turned to Dean.

“Dean?” you asked. You were actually a little nervous he didn’t like it since he was

Dean was just blinking at you, then he shook his head. “You look...great,” he said finally.

“Thanks,” you said, sitting back. “So, where to next?”

Dean cleared his throat. “We’re heading back to our home base, the bunker.”

“Ah, the infamous bunker. Can’t wait,” you said. Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the salon and onto the highway.

\------

You were in awe when you saw the bunker. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. The history of the place alone just...overwhelmed you.

It was also so...big. You had lived in a tiny two bedroom house with your dad your whole life. Any space would have felt small with him, but you couldn’t even imagine growing up in a place like this.

Not that Sam and Dean had. They explained to you how they inherited the bunker and all about the Men of Letters. It was so much information but you felt like you had a pretty good grasp on it.

They showed you to the room you would be staying in, telling you that you could stay as long as you want or need to. It was huge. Like three times the size of your old room. You smiled wide when they said it was all yours, and immediately jumped onto the bed, sprawling out on the queen sized mattress.

“This is the most amazing bed I’ve ever laid in,” you said. Dean leaned against the door jam, chuckling.

“You’re easy to impress, you know that?” He said.

You smiled big, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So, hey, I’m gonna go get dinner started,” Dean said. Sam said he would help and they left you to get acquainted with your new surroundings.

You unpacked your few belongings, putting folded clothes in the dresser and hanging the others in the small closet. When you were done, you sat on the bed and grabbed your guitar, wanting to keep working on your song until dinner was ready.

_Why should I play this game of pretend?  
Remembering through someone else’s sorrow_

You scrunched your brow and stopped playing. You wanted to change that line so it would flow better, so you crossed it out on the page and continued playing around until you found something you liked.

_Why should I play this game of pretend?  
Remembering through a secondhand sorrow_

You smiled, and continued to strum a little. After a moment you heard someone clear their throat. It was Sam, who had been leaning in the doorway, listening to you.

“Oh, hey, Sam,” You said, putting your guitar to the side.

“Y/N, you’re really good,” he said, coming into the room and smiling. You searched his face to see if he was joking. Your dad had ever only told you that you were a failure, so you were surprised when you saw sincerity in Sam’s face.

“Really? You think so?” You asked.

“Really? You didn't know?” Sam asked back.

“Well, I’ve never really played or sang in front of anyone before.”

“Well you should. You’re awesome,” Sam said. “Dinner’s ready.” He turned on his heel after giving you an encouraging smile and you got up and followed him toward the smell of homemade pizza.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean 

Dean had noticed through dinner that you weren’t feeling too well. When he asked you about it, though, you had brushed him off, saying that it was just the pain from your bruised ribs. You had gone to bed early, saying you just needed some rest.

Dean didn’t feel good about it at all.

“Do you think maybe she’s in more pain than she’s letting on?” 

“I think that’s 100% a possibility,” Sam replied. They were sitting in the library, their feet propped up on the table as they drank their beers. “I mean, just think about it, Dean. She went through hell her whole life with her dad. He beat her up constantly. She’s used to pain and she’s used to hiding it.”

Dean nodded slowly. It struck a chord with him that he didn’t really understand. 

Both men heard a loud thump come from down the hall. Dean was up faster than he knew was possible and was running toward the sound. He threw open the door to your room to see you huddled on the floor, your hand to your chest.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling down beside you. 

“Can’t...catch my breath…” you said between panting. 

Dean scooped you up carefully and placed you on the bed. “Sammy, what’s wrong with her?” He asked his brother. 

“I-I don’t know, Dean.” He came near to try to check you out, his eyes skipping all over your body to search for the cause. After a moment his eyes lit up and Dean knew that he had thought of a possibility. 

“Y/N, I need to listen to your chest,” he said, leaning over you. Dean watched as his brother put one ear to your right side and then one to your left. 

He pulled away and looked at Dean. “I’m not sure, but I think she might have a collapsed lung,” he said.

“How do you know?” Dean demanded. 

“I don’t know for sure but it can happen when you have fractured ribs. They can puncture your lung and collapse it. We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He scooped you up again and took you to the Impala. He drove as fast as he could to the nearest hospital and watched helplessly as they put you on a stretcher and wheeled you away from the emergency room.    
  


You

“...had to sedate her, so she’s going to be out of it for...”

“...was a collapsed lung?”

“...ribs were much worse than she…”

“...son-of-a-bitch wasn’t already dead…”

You could hear snippets of conversation in your sedated state. You tried hard to remember where you were and why you couldn’t move, but you were at a loss. You started to panic, and your heart rate shot up, the monitor beside you beeping loudly.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you have to calm down. You’re okay,” you heard from beside you. You knew it was Dean’s voice, and you let the deep tones soothe you. 

You slowly opened your eyes as your heart slowed. Though the sterile smell of the hospital made you feel nauseous, you found Sam and Dean’s faces and waited for them to explain what had happened. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam said softly. 

You smiled up at him, grateful to not be alone in the hospital. “Sam,” you said quietly. 

“Gave us a scare there, kiddo,” Dean said from your other side. At the sound of his voice you felt your heart flutter. You couldn’t remember anything that had happened since you passed out on the way to the hospital. But, to your chagrin, you did remember seeing Dean’s face swimming in your dreams.

“Ah, it’s just a scratch,” you joked, knowing it was anything but.

"It's a collapsed lung, actually," Sam explained.

“Well as soon as we get a hold of Cas we’ll get you out of here,” Dean said.

“Cas?”

“Yeah, Castiel. He’s a friend of ours. He’s an angel,” Sam said.

Your eyes widened and you smiled again. “Cool.”

Dean sighed. “Are you ever skeptical about anything?” He had a small crinkle in his brow as he asked.

“I am skeptical of exactly the amount of things I should be,” you said with a smirk. Dean rolled his eyes, but you saw a small smile playing on his lips. 

“So how do you feel, Y/N? They had to put in a chest tube, so that's why you can't move much." Sam said. The truth was that you were in a lot of pain. You had a pretty high threshold for it, but a collapsed lung was different than any pain you’d felt before.

“I...I’ve been better,” you said. You didn’t want to complain. Even though you were in a hospital, you had never felt safer in your life. 

“I came as soon as I could.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw a man appear at the foot of your bed. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as the boys. He had shaggy brown hair and beautiful blue eyes that were somehow made even more prominent by the simple tan trench coat he wore. 

“Jesus, Cas, you know that always scares the crap out of us,” Dean said, who had also jumped at the appearance of the angel. 

“I apologize,” he said flatly. With that one sentence you knew you already liked the odd man. You smiled at him and he met your eyes. 

“You are Y/N, I presume?” he asked with his head tilted. 

“Yes. It’s nice to meet you, Cas. I’m sorry if you were busy.”

He smiled back at you and you could tell his smiles were rare. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows were raised at the interaction. 

“I’m not too busy for the Winchesters and by extension, you.” He walked over to your bedside, his eyes boring into yours. “I am very sorry for all you have been through, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Cas, but I’m okay. Really.” He smiled again and lightly touched your forehead with two fingers. The pain you were feeling was instantly gone, and you felt the pain from existing injuries leave as well.

As he removed his fingers you opened your eyes, your mouth pulling into a big smile. The chest tube was magically gone, and you were free to move around. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been pain free. A small tear escaped one eye, and you immediately stood, pulling Castiel into a hug.

He was stiff at first, but then he returned it and you could feel him smiling. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

When you pulled away he was gone almost instantly. 

“So? Better?” Dean asked.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a really long time,” you said sincerely.

“Then I think we should celebrate,” Sam said. “Who wants to go to the bar?”

“You know I’m in,” Dean said. You smiled, leading the way out of the hospital while dodging any nurses that might be suspicious.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, fluffy chapter. Trying to get back into this one :)

You

 

You plopped down next to Dean, the room spinning a little bit.

“Have you ever even been to a bar?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Nope,” you said, your lips popping on the ‘p’.

“Wow. Well, I gotta tell ya, you can’t tell at all,” Dean replied sarcastically as you swayed a little in your seat. 

“Oh, shut it,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. Sam chuckled at yours and Dean’s antics while he picked at the label on his beer bottle. 

There was a short silence before a new song came on the jukebox. 

“Yes!” you exclaimed. You hopped out of the booth and moved toward the dance floor. “Anyone wanna dance?” you asked. The boys both shook their heads. You were intoxicated enough that you didn’t care if you had to dance alone. 

You got to the middle of the floor and began swaying your hips, letting the music wash over you. The alcohol made you bold, and you danced like you never had before, feeling the music in your bones.

After a minute or so you felt someone grab your hips roughly, their body pressing against yours. You turned your head and saw that it was a stranger. When you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened. 

Before you even knew what happened, the stranger was ripped away. He was shoved back roughly, and you heard the word “taken” before you felt firm but gentle hands replacing the stranger’s. 

Dean held on to you, his firm chest warm against your back. You smiled at him in gratitude. 

“I thought you didn’t wanna dance,” you said as you continued to sway.

“Better than watching some asshole grind on you,” he grunted. You couldn’t help but smirk as you turned in his grasp and wrapped your hands around his neck. You feigned confidence, though your heart was hammering in your chest at your proximity to the beautiful man.

The two of you danced for a while, and soon you felt yourself yawning. “Let’s go,” Dean said with a wink when he noticed. You nodded sleepily and followed him to the Impala, passing Sam who was clearly not leaving yet as he was deep in conversation with a pretty blonde. 

  
  


Dean

 

Dean slid into the behind the wheel of Baby and chuckled to himself when he saw you trying to keep your eyes open in the passenger seat.

“Here,” he said, wrapping a hand around your waist. He pulled you to himself so you could rest your head on his shoulder. You smiled and immediately used his shoulder as a pillow, your eyes sliding closed. 

Dean glanced at your face every now and then as he drove. It was so peaceful, and it was hard to believe that you could look so happy after all you had been through. He could feel that your breathing had evened out, and you were already fast asleep. After he pulled into the bunker’s garage and turned off the engine, he picked you up, carrying you to your room.

You barely stirred when he did, and he watched your face as he walked down the hall. He couldn’t help but notice the smooth skin of your back where your shirt had inched up from his hold on you. It was warm, and he could swear that his fingers tingled just from touching it. 

Dean laid you down on your bed and watched as you curled into your side, still asleep. He smiled and brushed the loose blue hairs away from your cheek. He stepped back and stopped, nearly tripping on your guitar. 

_ Haven’t held one of those in years, _ he thought to himself. He picked it up and gave it a small strum, glancing back at you to make sure you didn’t stir from the sound. 

He was rusty. He hadn’t played since he left the boys’ home he had stayed in years ago. He had to admit, though, that he loved the feeling of the strings on his calloused fingers.

After playing around for a bit, he put the guitar down, leaving you to sleep peacefully. Dean had never been the creative type, but somehow, looking at you made him feel like he had something to say. He just needed to figure out how he would.

 

——-

 

You

 

You rolled over when you caught a whiff of coffee and cracked one eye open. The mug was sitting on your bedside table and Dean was kneeling down next to the bed with a smirk on his face.

“Morning, princess,” he said. You groaned, snapping your eyes shut tight again.

“Little too much to drink there, sweetheart?” he said.

Your head was pounding, and you reached out to get the coffee, taking a scalding sip. You already felt better just from that. You sat up, squinting at Dean.

“Why aren’t you miserable?” you asked. 

“Because,” he said, standing up, “unlike you, I’ve built up a tolerance to alcohol.”

You pursed your lips. “Where’s that angel when you need him?” you asked jokingly. You looked past Dean and noticed immediately that your guitar had been moved ever so slightly. 

“Did you touch my guitar?” 

Dean’s smirk dropped and he looked away, guiltily shifting his eyes. “No.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not mad,” you said. “I just didn’t know you played.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved. “Well, I don’t. Just learned a little when I was younger. Felt kinda good to pick a guitar up again.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can play together sometime,” you said. Dean’s eyes lit up a bit at the suggestion, but he continued to play it cool.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat, “sure.”

You downed the rest of your coffee and got up. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, brushing past him. “Feel free to play some more if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said with a big grin. He picked up your guitar and sat on the bed, beginning to play as you left the room. You smiled big as the music drifted down the hall. If Dean Winchester loved music too...you were pretty sure you were in big trouble. 


End file.
